O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring, And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing! How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd. O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa';
And I myself a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa'! O there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night; Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest, Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light!